


Following Through

by vehlr



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4457144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric doesn't hate Cassandra. And that's the problem - at least, for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Following Through

He honestly did not expect this.

Hunkered down behind crates, hiding where Cole had vanished – _thanks, Kid, thanks a bunch_ – as the Inquisitor and the Seeker talk, a very private conversation given how far up the inn they had travelled.

Wren Adaar ducks her head slightly to avoid the beams. “Look, I don’t _care_ what happened between you two. You’ve been acting like skittish deer ever since, and it’s affecting everyone. Fix it.”

“It is not that simple,” sighs the Seeker, and the rail creaks as she leans against it – or so Varric can only assume. “Before, we did not always agree but we had a… respect. Hawke’s reappearance fractured that.”

Varric suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. _Was she still upset about that?_

Wren shares his sentiment. “Varric apologised -”

“You misunderstand me. I… acted rashly. I spoke words that, whilst I do no regret, could have been phrased better. And now I pay the price for that rash behaviour.” A beat of silence. “He hates me, I think. And I cannot say he is wrong to do so.”

His chest tightens at the words. _Hate? Is that really what she thought?  
_

“He does _not_ ,” drawls the Inquisitor.

“He surely must, after everything I have done to him.” Her voice is strained, quiet. She wanted her words to be false, he realises, and that made his chest tighter still.

Hate her? How could he hate her? That was the problem – he could not stop _not_ hating her. And so he had kept her at arms distance, waiting for those feelings to pass as he knew they must. After all, she was… _  
_

_power all legs and aggression and disgusted noises and that soft smile he had managed to earn only once or twice and angles and pure open-eyed faith and grace and lips that were as sharp as her wit and_

… the Seeker, and she could never – Maker, she could never – _could_ she?

“Cassandra, you’re being ridiculous.” There is a thud, and Varric can guess at the angry fist hitting the railing – it was Wren’s way. “He does _not_ hate you. At best, he’s just sore that you got a little rough and didn’t follow through –“

“ _Inquisitor!_ ”

“ – but he’s long since forgiven you, that much is obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes. He wrote you a _book_ , Cassandra,” she stresses. “He doesn’t do that for people he hates.”

“He – he wrote a wonderful book,” she admits softly. “But only because you asked –“

“How else was he supposed to know you read his work?”

“I…”

“Talk to him. Or I’ll lock you two in a room, and damn the consequences.”

The Seeker sighs heavily, the creak of wood as she moves. “I will… consider your advice,” she says tightly. “I do not doubt your threats.”

“Ah, come on,” laughs Wren, “you wouldn’t mind it _that_ much, would you?”

Whatever her response is, it remains unsaid, and the door to the battlements opens and closes as she leaves.

He waits until the door clicks shut, letting out a sigh.

“So?” Wren leans against the crates, peering down at him expectantly.

He yelps, jumping to his feet. “Andraste’s _ass_ , woman, don’t _do_ that!”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, just go after her already. Cole’s sick of the mood between you two, and I have to agree. Talk, kiss, have raucous sex and then thank me later, alright?”

He mutters under his breath, emerging from his hiding spot. “For the record, you’re wrong. I wasn’t sore that she didn’t follow through.”

“Oh?”

His hand rests on the door handle for a moment, smirking over his shoulder at the Inquisitor. “I was sore that I _wanted_ her to.”

The dusk is cool in the mountains, but the worst of the winds have died down and the air is surprisingly fresh as he wanders down the battlements. The Seeker is not hard to find, her own feet slow in the low light.

She turns at the sound of his approach. “Oh. Varric?”

“Seeker. Nice night for an evening,” he drawls, the hint of a smirk as a long-forgotten memory of another stubborn woman comes to mind.

She frowns. “That… that makes no sense, Varric.”

“Yeah, that’s what we said to Aveline at the time. Classic.” He takes a deep breath. “I, ah… I thought we could… talk.”

The silence that follows feels like a lifetime. “You heard,” she realises, eyes widening.

“Not intentionally,” he assures her. “I think our fearless leader set us both up.”

She swallows audibly, tearing away from his gaze. “Of course. I, ah – I do not expect you to forgive –“

“Seeker, I don’t hate you.”

“You do not have to -”

“No, I mean -” He takes her hand in his, thumb running over her knuckles. “I _really_ don’t hate you.”

Her fingers tighten around his for a lingering moment. “Oh,” she says simply, the hint of a blush on her cheeks as she stares quite determinedly at the horizon. “Well. I do not hate you either,” she finishes quietly.

He chuckles, a weak noise escaping his throat. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because that would have been quite embarrassing.”

She lets out a laugh, slightly too loud and on the heels of a breath she had clearly been holding in, and he dares to step a little closer.

“You were sad,” he says finally, “at the thought that I might.”

“Of course.” She says the words as if it should be obvious, turning to look at him. “I… admire you.”

“Oh.” And now _he_ is holding his breath, heart oddly giddy. “I, ah… I kind of assumed you thought I was a bother.”

“I can see why you might think that.”

“Well,” he says, fingers lacing between hers, “I’m glad I’m wrong.”

She nods, hand tightening around his once more as she smiles. “As am I. I have missed your teasing.”

“Hey, you gave as good as you got, Seeker,” he grins.

She ducks her eyes, shaking her head slightly. “Only what you deserved, dwarf.”

He takes another step, close enough that he has to tilt his head back to catch her eye. “You’re probably right about that. I tend to run my mouth off around women like you.”

Her eyebrow quirks up. “Women like me?”

“Oh, you know… strong, attractive, threat to bears everywhere…”

She laughs. “You are ridiculous.”

“… brave, compassionate, legs that won’t quit -”

“Varric.”

“ - did I mention the bears thing?”

She leans in, closer and closer. “ _Varric._ ”

He takes a deep breath. “I admire you too, you know,” he whispers.

“Well,” she murmurs, arm wrapping around his neck, “good. Because that would have been _quite_ embarrassing.” And she presses her lips against his, silencing any further outbursts for a long while.


End file.
